Friday, May 18, 2012
The Remaining Mirrors
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And I hide because there's more to me than what you see and I'm not sure you'd like the rest. I know that sometimes, I don't like the rest.
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I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for. You were meant to read these words.
The Story Behind Everything
"Every word, every picture."
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2012
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May
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- The Infinite Distance
- 3 Interleaved Blocks Of Wood, Shot Through With In...
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- The Space Between Oxygen And Hydrogen
- The Monster Made Of Black Paint
- The Reason For Airports
- The Remaining Mirrors
- The Glass Attic Of My Mind
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27 comments:
only sometimes I get surprised by how you love all the things I hate about me.
This is extremely weird that I am reading this today. I have been saying this almost exact phrase for a month now to this boy in my life. You never fail to take my breath away for some reason.
i'm learning to love the rest
There you go again. Writing what's inside my head....
and i'm doing this because i'm afraid you might leave if you didn't like those parts of me.
I didnt cowar when I risked diclosing things about myself I knew you would dislike. I didnt cowar when I told you I was difficult. I didnt cowar when I confirmed how imperfect I really am and I didnt cowar through the constant intimidation. I chose to understand it. I chose to work through it. I'm proud I tried and I regret nothing. I can't dislike what I don't understand. I accept tough indirect luv and I reject traitors, which category do you fit in again?
And the truth begins when I finally hide & watch everything without anyone notice me.
because i fear that you'll leave me if you knew the rest about me.
And I need you to know, I can't love all of you without knowing all of you. Even those parts you hate. Even the parts you try to cut out of yourself. Stitch them back in, I'll show you where the beauty lies. You're not perfect, but no one ever wants perfection. Imperfection is perfection.
Come to the edge. We might fall. Come to the edge. It's too high! COME TO THE EDGE! And they came, and he pushed, and they flew.
I need you to show me more, the ugly and dark cobwebs of your soul. Because if you don't, I can't show you the part of me no one has ever seen.
And it gets so lonely. This dust and darkness so heavy, hiding like this. Don't you think?
But if you won't, then we won't. And I understand. (Sometimes it's better like this. Comfortable in our holes.)
too perfect
It's OK to not like all of yourself. All the parts of you that you don't like (yet) are parts that are under construction and upon completion they would complement the parts that you do like. And the high and sometimes harsh standards you subject yourself to will prove to be your best friends in the end.
But somehow I know you already know this. I just want you to know that I know it too.
i hide because sometimes i can be a little overwhelming, a little strong, a little overpowering. i don't mean to be, it's just how i am. you seem to enjoy it, which scares me. but i'm starting to realize that sometimes it's okay to be afraid.
We are the same... guess that is a risk worth taking since you are going to hide anyway.
This is exactly what I was writing to myself earlier. I admire your work and your thoughts.
Coming to the edge and then flying was what she had set out to do.
Along with him. Her naive dream....
But he never jumped. He just pushed her over and stood at the edge thanking his lucky stars that he had finally managed to get rid of her.
And now their story is done.
She doesn't care about him anymore. :)
The end.
He finally got rid of the one woman who sincerely, truly loved every fucking little piece of him....
even the messed up pieces that he was afraid to show anyone else.
More salt please. Rub it in a little harder but baby, she can't feel a thing anymore.
Congratulations!
Oh, you didn't see it but--- she landed on her feet.
Goodbye.
:)
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
She's over the edge now. Yeah, she landed straight on the rocks. Broken, bruised, she's trying hard, very hard indeed to stand up again. Perhaps go back to flying again.
And she knows he's still there, standing at the edge leaning over as far as he dares, looking out for her.
And THAT is enough.
'til next time.
No next time with him. No. No. No.
She's over the edge, alright. Upon landing, she went a little crazy. She realized she was a little tired of behaving herself and feeling geographically stuck (i.e. too close to him for comfort). So she's dancing at the best club in the city, making more in one night then he makes in a month. She's saving all of that money to move really far away from him. She really doesn't care what he thinks about her anymore. He can look out for her all he wants but she hung those boots up, for good.
Love,
"Georgia"
The end.
????
I've accepted it is done.
Alright? Enough. Leave me alone.
Yeah from the way you put it, their story really has ended perhaps. But her story? We have plenty more left to know when it comes to hers.
And him? He walks those same roads but stealthily. As if not to disturb her in her dance. Wishfully thinking of times gobe by.
Strange how the two of them are always out of sync.
you tried to break me, you see.... but thanks to you i got a new thing started. thanks to you i'm finally thinking about ME.....
in the end, the day you left was just my beginning.
:-) I am so glad that you have begun. When I knew you you were too afraid to begin with something. And I? I will always love you. I never wanted to break you. I wantec to break myself. And I succeeded.
I am broken.
Be back when you want to. I will remain waiting. Just so that I can unbreak me one day.
I love you.
You accuse me of trying to break you. I accuse you of pushing me over the edge, of shooting me in the head while I slept.
Don't you see there's so much hurt and pain. For both of us.
The only way to heal this hurt is to kiss away your tears as you kiss away mine. To have my face next to yours, my arms around your shoulders as you sit, yours fingers playing with my hair cascading over your neck. I can happily die then.
Come realease me. And yourself. Our new things can wait till then.
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